


recreate a place that's our own world

by Muncaster



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, background kataang and mailee, they are storm chasers, work rivals to friends to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:27:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29494296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muncaster/pseuds/Muncaster
Summary: Sokka freezes, midway up from his seat.  “Wait.  I’m covering for Mai and Ty Lee?”Piandao’s voice breaks his focus from his memories.  “Is that a problem?”“No, no, that’s not a problem,” Sokka replies, absent-mindedly.  “But hey, Piandao, do you… do you know who my partner for this season will be?”Piandao frowns.  “Zuko Sugita.  He’s their usual partner.  I thought you knew this?”He did.Fuck.---After a last-minute work reassignment requires Sokka to spend his summer in a cramped van with Zuko, he finds himself questioning whether or not he can survive it.  He unexpectedly finds a tedious friendship in the other man, and as they navigate storm patterns together, Sokka becomes increasingly aware of the tender storm of emotions in his heart.  AKA, the storm chasing AU no one asked for <3
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 57
Kudos: 88





	1. Chapter 1

Kansas. They’re sending him to Kansas.

“Technically, Kansas City is in Missouri.”

“Well, that’s awfully misleading.”

“I suppose.”

Sokka sighs in his seat, turning his head to focus outside of Piandao’s office window. “What happened to me staying in Fort Worth? With Aang and Toph?”

Piandao clacks away on his computer. “Plans change. One of our central region teams just lost two of its three members.”

Sokka’s heart drops. “Oh god.”

“What?” Piandao asks, confused, blinking up from his screen. A second later, he rushes up a hand to cover his face. “ _No_ , Sokka, they’re on maternity leave. Nobody’s dead.”

“Oh. Right, sorry.”

“Anyways. Central region has a team that, right now, consists of just a single member. You know how the saying goes.”

“ _'There’s no I in team'_?” Sokka unenthusiastically offers. 

Piandao clicks his tongue in agreeance and turns his eyes back onto his computer.

Sokka frowns. “Okay, but why am  _ I _ being moved? I’ve been working in the southern region since leaving the academy. Why not move someone who hasn’t been here as long?” 

“We’ve already sent out most of our teams for the season,” Piandao replies, fixing a look at Sokka. “Your team is the last one to be deployed, and therefore the easiest one to shift around assignments with.”

“And you couldn’t send Aang instead? Or Toph?”

Piandao laughs. “You try telling your sister that you’re moving Aang to a different region right now.” Sokka cringes at the thought. Ever since Bumi was born five months ago, Katara has seldom let Aang out of her sight. “Besides that, central’s team is not in need of a driver. They need someone to run data collection.”

“Fine then. Why not Toph? She could collect data from Missouri.”

“Their vehicle doesn’t have any accommodations for Toph,” Piandao says plainly. “And I’m not about to send weeks filling out paperwork for a vehicle swap when I can just send you over to them instead.”

_ Fuck.  _ Sokka had forgotten about Toph’s specialized equipment. 

“June Zhang runs operations in the central region. She’ll be expecting you Monday at 9AM sharp,” Piandao says, punctuating the last point with a heavy clang of a key on his keyboard. Sokka goes back to looking out the window. A few cardinals lounge off a telephone wire, occasionally flitting around in whimsy. Their ubiquitous freedom floods Sokka’s head with envy. “You’ll have a day to get acquainted with your new partner and your new vehicle, and then you’ll be hitting the road on Tuesday.”

Sokka relaxes his neck and lets his head hang back, recognizing the gentle finality in Piandao’s voice. _There’s nothing he can do to avoid this_. “Fine. I’ll spend the next few months helplessly missing you and the rest of the southern region. I hope that you’re happy.”

Piandao chuckles, and Sokka begins to stand up, sensing the end of the conversation. “It’s just a few months, Sokka. And I’m sure Mai and Ty Lee will be grateful for the time spent with their daughter.”

Sokka freezes, midway up from his seat. “Wait. I’m covering for Mai and Ty Lee?”

He knows those women. He went through academy four years ago with Mai, who was an occasional sullen member of his study group. He and Aang traveled up to her wedding last year; Aang officiated. Sokka gave Ty Lee one joyous and drunk dance at their reception; a lucidly done waltz to the tune of “Cotton Eye Joe”; and when returning her to her new wife afterwards, Sokka heard Mai laugh for the very first time. Just last month, Sokka had sent the couple a package filled with baby clothes for their newborn daughter.

Piandao’s voice breaks his focus from his memories. “Is that a problem?”

“No, no, that’s not a problem,” Sokka replies, absent-mindedly. “But hey, Piandao, do you… do you know who my partner for this season will be?”

Piandao frowns. “Zuko Sugita. He’s their usual partner. I thought you knew this?”

He did. 

_ Fuck. _

-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-

“I’m doomed. Four months working in a small van with only Sugita for company. I’m not going to make it,” Sokka bemoans, sinking further into his spot on Aang and Katara’s couch. He knocks back the last of his beer, sets the empty bottle onto the side table, and watches Aang play with Bumi on the carpet. (Aang’s rolling a ball towards him. Bumi’s doing nothing but drooling.)

“You know, Sokka, I think you may be exaggerating,” Aang suggests.

“No, I don’t think he is,” Katara cuts in, flopping down next to Sokka on the sofa. “Zuko’s the worst.”

“Do you really still have it out for him just because of that one text?” Aang groans. There’s a puerile frustration in his voice, and Sokka instantly knows this is an argument that has been argued before. “Listen, he called Bumi ‘neat’! That’s not an insult!”

“It’s not an insult,” Katara concedes, “but it’s not something you say to your friend when they send you a picture of their newborn. He didn’t even _try_ to dote on baby Bumi. He didn’t even _fake_ affection for _your newborn child_.”

“Katara, I have no context for this event, but I agree wholeheartedly,” Sokka says. 

“Sokka,” Aang grunts. “If you just got to know him better, I’m sure you’d get along. He’s a nice guy.”

“Sugita treats me like I’m the plague,” Sokka grumbles, turning his head to rest on Katara’s shoulder. “Ever since I met him four years ago. I doubt a season will change that.”

“Sometimes he’s a little shy,” Aang says, flopping onto his back and lifting Bumi above him playfully. “Be the better person, Sokka. It takes Zuko a while to come around to people. Maybe he just hasn’t been around you long enough.”

Sokka thinks back through his memories with Zuko; there aren’t many, but enough. Zuko had sat in the front row of most of their lectures in academy, and was one of Piandao’s favorite students. Zuko barely spoke to anyone in their class, save for Mai, whom he had known before even signing on to work for the National Weather Service. Sokka’s main interactions with the man all stemmed from the same group project they were put in together; a one week assignment, learning first aid skills to use on the field. The two of them got along well, albeit a little awkwardly; especially when they had to wrap around each other to practice Heimlich maneuvers; but it all soured on the last day, when they were tasked with demonstrating CPR. Sokka went in a little too fast to demonstrate mouth-to-mouth, and Zuko had punched him in the face.

(They both retook the course a week later with different partners.)

“He’s been around me plenty,” Sokka decides. “Where’s Toph to agree with me when I need her? 

“You know she’s still out of town visiting her parents,” Aang reminds him. “And you can make it four months.”

“Whatever.” Sokka blows a stray strand of hair out of his face. “I’m doomed. Please tell me that you and Toph have a shrine planned in my honor for Appa.”

Appa is the name of their weather van. Aang named him after a childhood pet. Toph had protested the name when she first came to work with them, but her suggestions (“Vanny Devito,” “Free Candy,” and “The Van-tichrist”) were quickly vetoed by a scandalized Aang.

“I’ll ask her to draw a picture of you to put in your empty seat, how about that?” Aang suggests, laughing. 

Sokka rolls his eyes but also laughs at the concept. “Representing my presence with a masterpiece of scribbles? If I really have to leave, then I suppose that I couldn’t ask for anything better.”

The doorbell rings, and Sokka stretches up from the couch as Katara moves to answer it. She comes back in a few moments with their food delivery, and Sokka follows her into the dining room and begins to set the table.

“You’re going to miss me, at least, right?” Sokka asks her playfully, mind wondering whether or not it’s the fork or the knife that goes to the right of each plate-- it’s definitely the fork-- but  _ maybe  _ the knife--

“I’m going to miss everyone,” Katara sighs, setting out the fried rice and lo mein. “Aang’s going to be close, but still far enough out in the field to not be here to help with the day-to-day with Bumi. You’re going to be too far to even come over for an occasional dinner. Both of you will be chasing storms that could hurt you with only a moment’s notice. I just…” 

Sokka waits for his sister to continue, but she remains statuesque, clutching a bundle of plastic silverware in her hands. A quick glance out the door shows that Aang is still playing with Bumi on their living room carpet, just out of earshot.

Sokka moves towards Katara gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Katara?”

Her face is scrunched up, eyebrows furrowed together, eyes closed tightly. Her body is hunched into itself, as if she’s trying to make herself smaller, more containable. The only indication of movement from her body is the rapid up-and-down motion of her chest from her breathing, and a sliver of a tear trailing its way down one of her cheeks. Sokka reaches up a hand to brush it off.

“Aang’s nervous,” Katara says under her breath. Her voice cracks midway through, and she laughs a little light laugh that doesn’t spread mirth anywhere on her face. “Sokka, Aang’s nervous. He’s not going to be around Bumi, Bumi will just be with me, and I have clinicals to work at, and I just don’t know,” she pauses, taking a deep breath and rubbing at her eyes, “I just don’t know if I can do it by myself.”

“Hey, hey,” Sokka says softly but surely, moving his other hand up so that he’s secured onto Katara’s shoulders, trying his best to meet her eyes. “Katara. You are the strongest person I know. And that’s including Toph.” His voice lifts at the admission, and to his delight, Katara lets out a warbled chuckle. “Nothing about these next few months will be easy, but they’ll be doable. You can do this. I’m sure Aang’s just nervous because he’ll be missing you and Bumi so much, not because he doesn’t believe in your ability to juggle everything. Katara, he loves you so much. It’ll work out, I promise.”

“But what if it doesn’t?” Katara chokes out, quietly but desperately.

Sokka pushes forward and gathers his sister into a tight hug. He squeezes and rocks her back and forth. 

“Katara,” he says into her hair, “it  _ will  _ work out. There’s no use going down that train of thought. You won’t need it.”

She sniffles into his shoulder. “I know I’m being stupid, but I just can’t help but think about how it could go wrong. What if Bumi gets sick and I can’t take off work? What if I can’t manage my workload with a baby to take care of? What if Bumi notices Aang missing for so long and feels abandoned?”

“Okay, firstly, you’re not stupid, you’re just human, let’s just clear that up right now,” Sokka replies. He hears motion from the living room, most likely Aang gathering up Bumi and making his way into the dining room. “And your brain doesn’t need to focus on the ‘what-ifs’. Focus on the fact that I love you, Toph loves you, Aang  _ super _ loves you, and Bumi would literally die in like,  _ two seconds _ without you. That big baby boy loves you  _ soooo  _ much. I know his little baby brain is  _ so _ excited to hang out with his mama all summer.”

Katara shudders out a laugh into Sokka’s shoulder, and he squeezes her tight one more time before letting her go, helping her brush the remaining tears off her face as she reorients herself. 

“Katara, you’re doing some really amazing things right now,” Sokka says, lowering his voice as he hears Aang’s footsteps. “I know things are stressful for you, between Aang leaving, and taking care of Bumi, and still going into work. But if you need anything, dad isn't far, and I’m only a call away. Not even stuffy Sugita could keep me away if you asked for help.”

Katara rolls her eyes, smiling, pushing him away. “I’ll hold you to that,” she says, voice regaining strength.

Sokka smiles back, backing off just as Aang enters the dining room. “You better. Now come on, let’s eat.”

-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-

Eight shirts, most plain blue, some white, and one black. Two plaid flannels. Two jeans, two khaki pants, a pair of basketball shorts and sweatpants. Two pairs of pajama pants, one tank top. A handful of socks, enough underwear to last him at least two weeks. Toiletries and a few books. A spare pair of sneakers, and one pair of dress shoes, just in case.

Another summer to spend living out of his suitcase.

Sokka moves his suitcase towards the front door in his apartment, and lays a blanket and pillow over top. (There was this one incident, during his first field year, when Aang had accidentally driven into a ditch and gotten their crew stuck with no hotel for the night. They had slept on the grass, and Sokka woke up with indents on his back from all the small rocks on the ground. Every year since, Sokka made sure to bring along spare sleeping supplies.) His backpack, holding his laptop and charging cords, is resting against the front door as well.

Sokka walks through the apartment, double-checking that he’s thrown out all the trash, emptied out the fridge, and locked all the doors. Satisfied that he’s crossed everything off his Last-Night-At-Home checklist, he heads to bed.

He curls himself into a tight corner of the bed, bundling himself with layers of blankets. Sokka pays special attention to the feel of his cotton sheets, his body’s impression in the mattress that’s seven years in the making. Everything about this room is comforting and tailored to him. Working remotely for a quarter of the year has taught him how to cope with missing  _ people _ in his life (thank goodness for video chats and telephones), but when he misses _places_ … well, it’s all he can do to attempt to memorize his bedroom now.

He shoves aside all his intrusive thoughts, his worries over Katara and Aang and how they’re going to navigate parenting apart, his FOMO over a season with Aang and Toph lost, his anxiety over having to make nice with Zuko… and instead focuses on the faint jasmine smell that lingers on his pillows from their latest wash, the hum of his television static, and the perfect fit of his own body on his bed.

He falls asleep bathed in the blue static of his empty television screen, an alarm patiently waiting for the dawn to break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i continue my zukka brainrot with another niche modern au! this fic has been in my drafts for MONTHS (shoutout to kit for helping me develop this idea!!). it feels so good to finally be polishing it up & posting it for y'all-- i'll probably be posting new chapters once or twice a week.
> 
> thank you so much for reading, & comments/kudos are so so appreciated <3 also feel free to say hey on tumblr! i'm @muncaster on there, too.


	2. Chapter 2

Zuko Sugita doesn’t seem to have changed much in the past four years.

Silky long black hair, tied back into a bun, secured by a red ribbon. Eyes straight from a fairytale; his right, a striking kobicha, and his left, a cloudy copper, surrounded by an angry burn, seemingly incapable of healing. Loose black clothes, making his skinny arms and pale skin stand out drastically. And his voice...

“You’re late.” 

_ Still rough at the edges. _

Zuko’s frowning, sourly looking Sokka up and down as he gets out of his taxi. “You said you’d be here at nine.”

“Ah, well, you know. My taxi got caught in traffic on the way here.” Zuko didn’t need to know the details of why (which was a detour, caused by a crippling caffeine addiction and one rather intense conversation with his taxi driver on the supposed local Big Foot sightings). __ “It is so nice to see you, too, Sugita.”

Zuko scowls, but holds open the front door to the National Weather Service’s central region headquarters as Sokka approaches. “Leave earlier next time.”

“Your wish is my command,” Sokka grumbles, patting him on the shoulder as he enters the building. 

Central region’s headquarters is regal and massive, with an ornate circular lobby filled with little seating spots. Along one wall is a simple breakfast set-up, a lone barista tending the stand. Sokka eyes it with envy.

“Hello, boys,” a voice calls from the main reception desk. Sokka whips his head around to look at a tall woman holding a file in her hand. “I’m so happy to see that you’ve finally made it here.”

“You must be June,” Sokka says. He recognizes her from a photograph Piandao briefly showed him: she’s in her late 30’s, with long dark hair, intense eyeliner, and a swirly tattoo on her bicep. 

“And you must be late,” she replies. Sokka cringes for a split second before realizing that, unlike Zuko, she seems to be humoring him; there’s a saccharine smirk on her face. Sokka offers her a shaky smile and she laughs. “Just kidding, Mr. Qanik. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure’s all mine,” Sokka replies smoothly. “And please, call me Sokka.”

“Sokka, then. Welcome to the central region. If you two will follow me, I’ll show you the vehicle you’ll be using, starting tomorrow.” She brings Sokka and Zuko through the entrance foyer into a side room near the front of the building, where a few mechanics are ambling about.

“This vehicle is slightly different than the one we’ve given you in the past, Mr. Sugita,” she says, waving off the mechanics and bringing Sokka and Zuko close to the vehicle. It’s a large van, an eggshell white color, with a radar poking out from the roof. There’s a truck-like add-on in the back, where more monitoring equipment sits. “Since Ty Lee and Mai are gone for the season, we’ve exchanged the three-person van you used to drive for this. It’s built for a two-person team; one principal driver, and one principal scientist to run our equipment.”

Sokka nudges Zuko, who’s stoic and unfazed beside him. “Hey, that’s pretty cool, right, Sugita? New season, new car.”

“Oh, Sokka, this isn’t a new car,” June intercedes bemusedly. “She’s been with us for about ten years now. But she’s got a fresh oil change and updated equipment, so she’ll last the season.”

Sokka pointedly avoids looking over at Zuko again. He’s scared of meeting his infamous glare.

“There’s ample room in the front for the both of you to sit,” June continues. “The equipment is designed around the back of the van, so that it’s possible for you, Sokka, to monitor it all from the passenger seat. If you’d like to get in and get a feel for your surroundings, please take a moment to do so now.”

Sokka mutters a quick thanks before opening the back door to check out the monitoring equipment. It’s standard, matching almost exactly with the equipment he used in the southern region. It’s missing the speakers that would recite the readings for Toph to monitor, and there’s a distinct lack of Braille on the front of all the devices, but besides that, everything seems similar enough.

What’s different, Sokka notes, is that Zuko is climbing into the front seat, and the only place for Sokka to go is right next to him. The passenger seat in the car is built on a swivel, so Sokka reaches out and twists it so that he can move into the front without exiting the car. Zuko clears his throat, and out of the corner of his sight, Sokka sees him looking him over.

“Qanik.” Zuko’s voice is firm. Sokka fidgets in his seat.

“What’s up, Sugita?” Sokka turns his head to look over at him, and plasters on his brightest smile.

Zuko blinks a few times before turning his own head back to look at the steering wheel. “When I work with Mai and Ty Lee, I get to have control over the dashboard and glove compartment. Even though the vehicle has changed, and I’m only temporarily working with you, I’d like that to remain the same.”

Sokka squints at him, but tries to hide it. He rolls over the words in his head. On paper, they seem… oddly territorial? But Sokka didn’t hear any aggression in Zuko’s voice, and the request could just be a simple one.

“Sure,” Sokka concedes after a few moments. “As long as you don’t get to always have control over the music.”

Zuko makes a final adjustment to the rearview mirror, and clears his throat before sparing a quick glance at Sokka. “No music when I’m driving,” he states. 

Zuko’s already back outside the car before Sokka can form a proper response.

As much as Sokka’s itching to argue that they can’t just ride around in  _ silence _ for months, June is there with them, and Sokka can’t imagine a worse first day in the region than one spent getting in trouble over a stupid argument. Sokka tucks his fight away and vows to save it for the road. There will be no authority figures with them once they’re on the road.

“Any concerns with the vehicle?” June asks politely, looking the two of them over when Sokka finally exits the vehicle.

They both shake their heads. June smiles.

“We’re going to run some communication drills for the rest of the day, and after you boys finish, there are hotel rooms with your names on them,” June says, leading them down a fluorescent hallway. “Tonight you each will get your own room, but you’ll have to share once you hit the road, all right?”

It’s what Sokka expected. He’s familiar with summers sometimes sharing a bed with Aang, when the southern region would occasionally put his team up in a room with two beds and no pull-out couch. (Sharing the bed with Toph was always a  _ nightmare _ . Her feet know no bounds. Sokka and Aang quickly learned to always team up for a bed if they didn’t have enough private sleeping spaces for all three of them.) But sharing a room with  _ Sugita _ feels a lot less like a fun sleepover, and a lot more like an unpleasant invasion of privacy. But that’s a problem for Sokka to deal with tomorrow night.

They reach the end of the hallway. June reaches for a door that opens up into a large meeting room, filled with several women flitting around the space. 

Sokka can’t help the grin that takes over his face as he recognizes the woman sitting closest to him.

“Suki!” he beams, running over with his arms spread, wrapping her up as soon as he’s close enough. Suki’s laughter tickles against his neck, and she gives his back a few whops before shouldering her way out of Sokka’s grasp.

“Sokka!” she greets happily. “It’s so good to see you!”

“Same!” he reciprocates enthusiastically. “I didn’t know you worked in the central region?”

“Yeah, I’ve been up here for the past year or so! I’ve been finishing up my driving courses to hopefully join a team on the road next season, and central’s got the best driving program. Anyways, it’s been too long, Sokka! How is everyone? Aang? Toph? Your sister?”

Sokka opens his mouth to respond, words poised on the tip of his tongue, when June clears her throat commandingly. Sokka sheepishly looks over to her, and to Zuko, who’s focusing on the floor, and then Sokka turns back to Suki. 

“Catch up some other time?” he asks quietly, and Suki nods with a smile, pushing him back towards June.

“This is the communication hub for our region,” June says, as soon as Sokka stumbles his way back to Zuko’s side. “Your vehicle is equipped with storm tracking software, but only within a certain range. If a storm registers out of that range, but your team is close enough to drive over to it, someone from this hub will notify you of the change of position. Every morning, Zuko, you are to contact the hub for your driving schedule. Sokka, you’re welcome to consult in these calls if you have a preference on where to be stationed for a particular day.”

Sokka nods, familiar with the methods.

“Both of you have met Suki,” June drawls, gesturing over to the brunette, who gives both him and Zuko a friendly wave, “and she is assigned to work with your team, alongside Jin.” Another gesture from June, this time towards a short woman with a languid smile on her face, who winks at Zuko (which, of itself, has Sokka’s brain spinning). Sokka looks over at Zuko. Both of his hands are curled in a tight grip.

“If you have any questions while on the field, don’t bother asking me, just get in contact with either of these ladies,” June sighs. “Nine times out of ten, they’ll know more than me.” 

With that, June moves towards an empty table to the side of the room. Sokka follows her, Zuko on his heels, and he feels his heart drop as he gets a look at what’s  _ on _ the table.

It’s all drills. Stacks of papers, and what’s on the papers is… drills.

“For the next few hours,” June continues, “you’ll be running fake scenarios and refamiliarizing yourselves with the numerical codes we will be using to communicate with you on the field.”

Sokka absolutely  _ hates _ the numerical codes. There’s absolutely no rhyme or reason behind them, and besides, they’re usually only pertinent to the driver.

But Zuko sits down with no complaints, and Sokka forces himself into the empty chair by his side. Sokka slides on one of the headphone pairs at the table, grabs a list of codes, and takes a deep breath before the simulations start.

-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-

The drills take seven hours to complete. By the end of them, Sokka  _ wants _ to lay his head upon the table and pass out right then and there. But June hands him and Zuko their respective hotel keys, and it’s a much more appealing idea to sleep on a hotel bed. Zuko seems to have the same idea, because before Sokka processes their matching movements, they’re walking together towards the hotel.

Sokka can only take thirty seconds of silence before he  _ needs _ to fill it.

“Dang, Sugita, those drills are always so tedious,” Sokka says casually, hoping that’s a good topic to start rambling about. “Every year I tell myself they can’t possibly be as slow as I remember, but somehow, they always end up  _ longer  _ than I think possible.”

Zuko sniffs. “The drills are important.”

“Oh, right, yeah, I wasn’t saying they aren’t necessary,” Sokka backtracks. “Just that they’re, you know, wearisome.”

Zuko doesn’t even acknowledge Sokka’s words.

Sokka bites his lip, clawing his brain for safe conversational topics. He wants to ease the tension between the two of them; his biggest fear is being cramped in a van while still feeling uncomfortable around Zuko. Sokka’s mind is unfortunately blank, though, but he’s momentarily saved when they finally reach the hotel. Zuko unexpectedly holds the front door open for him. They bypass the lobby and head straight into the elevator, pressing their respective floor buttons.

“So, Sugita,” Sokka tries. Zuko doesn’t move his eyes from their focus on the floor. The elevator slowly climbs its way upwards. “Last night before hitting the road! Do you have any big plans for tonight?”

“No,” he replies curtly.

“Would you maybe want to get dinner with me? June said we can charge the room if we go to the restaurant on the hotel’s main floor.” Sokka tries to make his voice compelling and inviting, instead of hopeless and lonely. It ends up coming out bored.

“No, thanks,” Zuko says.

“Oh,” Sokka says, biting down on his lip and flicking his eyes upwards in exasperation. “Well, we could order room service, or something? Usually, Aang and Toph and I hang out the last night before the season officially starts, sort of like a bonding moment before work takes over.”

“We’ll have plenty of time for bonding when we’re in the same car the next few months,” Zuko says, somewhat under his breath. “Can it wait until tomorrow? I’m busy tonight.”

“I thought you said that you didn’t have any plans?” Sokka asks incredulously. A flicker of annoyance passes through Zuko’s face, and Sokka can practically  _ taste _ the fight brewing, so Sokka takes a deep breath, remembers Aang’s advice: _be the better person_ : and drops it. “Fine. I’ll see you in the lobby at seven tomorrow morning.”

The elevator dings, settling onto the fourth floor, where Zuko has been placed. Zuko whips out of the elevator without a goodbye, and as the elevator doors close again, Sokka lets out a sigh and slouches against the wall.

Ten seconds and two stories go by, and Sokka leaves the elevator, hoping to reset his mood with a nice shower before bed.

-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-

Sokka’s phone starts ringing as soon as he finishes drying up in the bathroom. He sees Toph on the caller ID and smiles as he picks up the phone, sitting down on his hotel bed with a towel slung lazily over his hips.

“Hey girl, what’s good?”

“Snoozles, you’ve got to save me.”

Sokka laughs at the boredom evident in Toph’s voice. “What’s going on now, Toph?”

“Aang’s hacking into a baby monitor to extend its range, so that he can keep it in the front seat of our car when we’re out on the field. Now, don’t get me wrong, I love Bumi, and I love hearing Katara go apeshit whenever he spits up on her. But I can’t take this. All Aang talks about is Bumi anyways, I’ll lose my shit if all my background noise is consumed by that child, too. I only have four senses to begin with, and Aang is dooming me to rely on only three!”

Sokka laughs despite himself, and somehow finds the situation funnier when Toph begins to yell.

“Don’t you be laughing over there, Snoozles! God, with the way things are going, I’d gladly switch places with you to ride with Zuko again. Although I suppose it wouldn’t be that strategic of a partnership, what, with only having one eye between the two of us.”

“Wait,” Sokka pauses, frowning, “what do you mean, again? You’ve ridden with Sugita?”

“When I first left the academy,” Toph replies. Her voice is grainy against Sokka’s ears. “I rode with him and Mai; they were nice enough. Mai used to play five finger filet with me, and Zuko would always be freaking out about it in the driver’s seat. Such a square. Anyways, I never got super attached to the area, so when a transfer opportunity came up to move down south, I ended up doing that. I felt it was time to get some change into my life. Ty Lee took my spot up there. Sucks for me, though, because I didn’t quite know at the time that the change in my life would end up being you two bozos.”

“Watch who you call a bozo, bozo,” Sokka retorts, processing the information. _Did Mai really indulge Toph?? In a game of five finger filet??? While Zuko was_ driving _???_

“Whatever. Anyways, the point I’m trying to make is that if I ever have a baby, please hit me over the head if I get this attached. I’m getting the impression that if we actually read a storm signal, Aang might drive home instead of to the storm’s location just to make sure Bumi and Katara are locked down. It’s going to be a rough season.”

“Tell me about it,” Sokka sighs, agreeing. He flattens himself on the hotel bed, fiddling with the edge of his towel as he stares up at the ceiling. 

“For what it’s worth,” Toph says, her voice softening, “one season with Zuko shouldn’t be too bad. I know the two of you have some rivalry thing going on, or something--”

“--it’s not a rivalry, he literally punched me in the face once, and he won’t engage in any optional conversation with me at all--”

“-- _ but anyways, _ he means well. He’s been nothing but nice to me, and I’m not always the easiest to be around. He’s a softie and a total dork; the two of you should get along great, once you get used to being around each other.”

Sokka lets the words wash over him, but doesn’t agree with them. He decides not to argue with Toph, though, and continues to listen to her talk.

“But forget about you. Forget about me. I’m a little worried about Aang. I feel like his separation anxiety might be a lot for him to deal with on the road. I mean, we signed up for this job knowing that it involves us literally heading into deadly storms-- but now that he has a kid waiting at home for him, the stakes feel too high. If I could collect readings by myself for this season, I would. I feel guilty that he still has to do field work now.”

“Aang’s strong,” Sokka says, resolute. “And brave, and capable. And he has you. And Katara’s only ever a call away. And he’s installing a _long-range baby monitor_.”

Toph hums lowly in acknowledgement. “No matter how everything goes, at least we’re getting a late start to the season. It’s only four months this time around.”

“Only four months,” Sokka echoes, planting his free hand on his forehead. “We can do it, Toph.”

Before she has the chance to reply, a heavy knock sounds outside his door. He isn’t expecting anyone, so it’s probably just an echo from his neighbor’s room, but he sits up anyways. After a few moments, during which Toph starts talking about something else, another knock rings out; this time, Sokka is confident that someone is on the other side of his door. He groans and gets up, holding on tight to the towel around his waist.

“Toph, I gotta go, someone’s at the door,” Sokka cuts in, feeling slightly guilty over not paying complete attention to her. “Talk later?”

“You got it, Snoozles. Remember to be nice to Zuko tomorrow!”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Sokka teases, before saying his goodbyes and hanging up the phone. “One second!” he hollers at his mystery guest, throwing his phone back onto his bed.

There’s no peephole on the door, so Sokka opens the door blindly, with enthusiastic curiosity.

Zuko’s shocked face greets him.

“Sugita, hey,” Sokka manages to get out, suddenly  _ very aware  _ of his semi-naked state. It’s not like he can hide it from the man; Zuko’s eyes flicker down Sokka’s chest, paying close attention to a collection of condensation on his upper left ribcage. Sokka makes a motion to wipe it quickly with his towel, before realizing that if he moves the towel, more than just his chest would be revealed to the man in front of him.

Sokka accepts the situation as it is, moves through the mental embarrassment quickly, and looks back up to Zuko. Zuko, who’s... _still looking at his chest_. Sokka clears his throat. Zuko’s eyes snap back up to his own.

“Can I help you?” Sokka asks, his voice a bit rickety. 

“Oh, um,” Zuko starts, blinking rapidly. He clears his throat and stands up straighter. Sokka has a few inches on him, and it fills his head with a weird sense of pride. “It’s no big deal, actually, so, uh... don’t worry. I can see that you’re busy. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Zuko turns away quickly, but Sokka reaches out and grasps his wrist before he manages to leave his vicinity. 

“I’m not particularly busy, actually,” Sokka admits, a smirk growing on his face. “Just a tad naked. That’s not the point. The point is that you’re not bothering me right now. What’s up, Sugita?”

“Just…” Zuko’s voice trails off, and his eyes wander rapidly in the periphery of Sokka’s chest. 

After a silence-filled pause, Sokka quirks a concerned eyebrow. Zuko blinks quickly in succession and then clears his throat.

“I just…. um, just wanted to make sure you had an alarm set for the morning. I don’t want a repeat of you being late. Anyways. You look naked-- I mean, you are naked. I mean… You look busy. Your hair is down. I’m gonna go. See you tomorrow at seven.”

The words fall from Zuko’s mouth at an impressive speed, and when he tugs his wrist out of Sokka’s hand, Sokka lets him leave. 

“Wait,” Sokka calls, scrunching his eyebrows. _Toph told him to be nice to Zuko… starting tomorrow_. “Did you seriously just come to my room to chew me out again for being late this morning?”

Zuko doesn’t even grace him with a look back as he opens the door to the staircase. “Seven AM!” his voice calls, echoing down the hallway.

Sokka doesn’t process the words fast enough to reply before Zuko’s out of sight, and Sokka can’t help but let out a huff of laughter before turning back into his hotel room, shutting the door behind him.

Only four months left before he’s back in Texas. Four months. He can make it through four months with Zuko Sugita. He can.

Hopefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what zuko says: i'm busy tonight  
> what zuko means: yearning's bouta make me burst, i need a facetime sesh with mai & ty lee ://///// sheeeeeeesh whew
> 
> up next week: finally hitting the road <3
> 
> also! i changed the fic title (is this allowed?? is that allowed????). now it's from "the sweet escape" by gwen stefani <3 i like it a lot better so it won't change again!!
> 
> thanks so much for reading :') kudos/comments are always appreciated!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> brief moment of homophobia at the end of the chapter! just a heads up <3

“First afternoon on the field,” Sokka says excitedly, holding up two newly-bought star keychains from the gas station. The charms have got an ‘S’ and a ‘Z’ label, respectively. “I think this calls for a souvenir, don’t you agree?”

Zuko grumbles from where he fills up a plastic cup with coffee. 

“I hope you like pink,” Sokka says. “It was between that or yellow for the Z’s, so I took a gamble for you.” He pushes the ‘Z’ keychain out towards Zuko, who glares at it momentarily before ignoring it completely.

“Do you need food?” Zuko asks brusquely.

Sokka rolls with the shift in conversation. “I’m always a slut for Doritos.”

Zuko sighs but walks towards the chip aisle, tossing Sokka the van keys as he goes. “Fill up the gas tank, will you? I’ll meet you outside with snacks.”

“Your wish is my command.”

Sokka walks back to the car and, before pumping gas, slides both keychains onto the van keys. Five minutes later and Zuko is walking out of the shop, a bag of snacks in tow, just as Sokka closes up the gas cap. 

“Perfect timing!” Sokka says, walking around the car and climbing into the passenger seat. “You get the goods?”

Zuko clambors into the car as well and pulls on his seatbelt before digging through the plastic bag on his lap. “Doritos.” He pulls out a blue and red bag of the chips, opening the red for himself and passing the blue over to Sokka.

Sokka stares at him, slowly reaching over to grab the blue bag out of Zuko’s hand. He’s always figured red to be the basic Dorito flavor, so the blue bag takes him slightly by surprise. They’re Sokka’s favorite flavor. He doesn’t think he’s told Zuko this before. After a bit too much time has passed and Sokka is still dumbly holding his bag, Zuko sighs and rolls his eyes.

“You didn’t say what color you wanted,” Zuko explains plainly, “so I ‘took a gamble for you’.”

Sokka feels a grin break out on his face, and for just a second,  _ just a moment _ , sees a ghost of it reflected on Zuko’s features before he goes back to eating his own chips. Sokka bites his lip, opens his own bag, and tries his best to stifle his grin.

_ Maybe... the next four months might not be horrid. _

-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-

Or they might be downright miserable.

It’s been days on the field and no storms have registered. Sokka’s gathered data from the atmosphere anyways, to have control variables to align their storm readings with, but the mundanity of his actions are nails scraping along his chalkboard brain. And _Sugita. Is. Not. Helping._

“Something blue,” Sokka begs, flashing the man his best puppy dog eyes from where he sits in the passenger seat. 

Zuko doesn’t even take his eyes off the road. “No.”

“Something blue! Come on, Sugita, humor me.”

“The sky.”

Sokka looks out the window and squints at the sky. It’s overcast, a cloudy gray. 

His mouth twists angrily. 

“Sokka, for the last time, I’m driving,” Zuko huffs, hands relaxed in perfect 10-2 formation. “Don’t distract me.”

Sokka sinks into his seat and leans his head against the window. Zuko, apparently, can’t be bothered to participate in a game as trivial as I Spy. Just like he wouldn’t partake in the license plate game ( _“It’s not like there are many cars on the highway around here, anyways, Sokka.”_ ). And he wouldn’t give Sokka access to the radio so that he could make Zuko guess what song he was playing. 

Maybe a different type of game would work.

Sokka pulls out his phone, swiping through Buzzfeed quizzes until he finds one that catches his eye. “Oh, Sugita, this is good. We’re going to find out what type of fruit you are, fruity boy.”

A choking sound comes from the driver’s seat, and Sokka moves his eyes over to find a completely red-cheeked Zuko. “How-- you know, that’s very… Have you maybe considered _not_ \--” he splutters, shaking his head subtly every other millisecond, as if to remove his thoughts from his own head.

Sokka looks on, flabbergasted, before glancing back down at the Buzzfeed quiz to see if it’s somehow offensive. He doesn’t find anything particularly vulgar. Maybe Zuko’s more into vegetables.

“Listen, I just thought it’d be a fun activity!” Sokka justifies, suddenly defensive.

“It’s just-- that’s a little personal, or um, uncomfortable, don’t you think?” Zuko huffs. Luckily, he’s relaxed a bit, eyes softening but remaining focused on the road ahead of them.

Sokka is so confused-- _how on_ earth _is a Buzzfeed quiz uncomfortably personal_ \-- but he tries to ignore the weird tension in the air. “Indulge me?” he asks, phone limp in his hand as he stares at Zuko.

Zuko doesn’t respond for a few seconds, gnawing on his lower lip. Finally, he slowly nods.

“Great!” Sokka says, taking the confirmation in stride before Zuko can change his mind. It’s the first activity idea he’s brought up that Zuko has actually _agreed_ to participate in. “Okay, first question.”

Zuko tenses.

“What kind of weather do you like?” Sokka reads off. “Here are the choices: ‘perfectly blue skies and very hot’, ‘I love the rain’, ‘cool but sunny’, or ‘wintry weather’.”

Sokka keeps his eyes and fingers on his phone, anticipating Zuko’s answer, which… ends up taking quite a few seconds. 

Zuko clears his throat. “Is that… is that the first question?”

“Yeah,” Sokka breathes. “Did you get all the answer options, or do you need me to repeat them?”

“How does the weather… wasn’t this a quiz on… erm... frutiness?”

“Yeah,” Sokka repeats, losing his patience. _This might be worse than a silent car_. “So, what’s your answer, Sugita?”

Zuko clears his throat again. “Oh. Um. Okay, I guess the rain option? I’m a stormchaser, so… that’s the right answer, right?”

Sokka almost clicks the rain option, but then frowns. “No, Sugita, you’re supposed to choose what weather you _actually_ like. Not just like, what your job is about.”

“Uh, okay,” he says softly. He hums a bit under his breath, and Sokka almost wants to whip open his camera app to get this on video: Zuko, infamous for being an independent stuck-up socially awkward menace… is _humming_ , taking time to truly consider his _favorite weather_ , so _serious_ for a _silly Buzzfeed quiz_ about what _fruit_ he would be. Katara would _kill_ for a video of this.

Zuko answers before Sokka can decide whether or not to actually catch the moment on film. “‘Blue skies and very hot’, I think. I grew up in southern California, so… that’s what I grew up in. And I like being outside in the summers here, and how perfect weather like that is more of a special treat.”

Sokka clicks on the answer. “You’re from California, and you voluntarily moved to the midwest?” he asks, before he can gauge whether or not the question sounds judgmental.

Luckily, Zuko easily brushes past it. “The job here is good, and I have people out here, so...”

Sokka nods, setting the information onto the dustiest shelf in his brain, and then drags his finger on his phone screen to settle onto the next question in this very important quiz. “Okay, next. Where in the fruit bowl would you be? At ‘the very top’, ‘to the side’, ‘in the center’, or ‘at the bottom’?”

Sokka happens to glance over to Zuko as he asks this, and is confused when a blush takes over his right cheek again.

“‘To the side’,” he stammers out quickly. Sokka quirks up an eyebrow, which Zuko somehow catches in his periphery. “Listen, that question is a bit… well. Just. I don’t want to answer that.”

Sokka looks incredulously at the man. “Wait, what’s your answer? You don’t want to answer, or ‘to the side’?”

“‘To the side’,” he growls, fingers agitated on the wheel. “Next question.”

They roll through the rest of the quiz in the span of a few minutes, and Sokka giggles when he sees the result. “Sugita, it’s official, you are… a raspberry.”

Zuko takes a few seconds, processing, head cocked, right eye squinting. “I’m… what?”

“‘Delicious… but so dang delicate,’” Sokka reads from the description. “Aw, Sugita. That’s so cute.”

“I’m confused,” Zuko says, shaking his head slightly. “I thought this was… a fruity quiz.”

“And… it was?” Sokka confirms, confused. “What, do you not know what a fruit is?”

“No,” Zuko grumbles. His face is completely flushed. “I thought you meant, like. Me being… fruity. Like… fruity stereotypes, maybe. Not actual fruit.”

It takes Sokka a second. It really does. But then he gets it. And he feels so stupid. But he starts laughing. Once he starts, he can’t stop. He can’t help it. He _bellows_. He _loses his shit_.

“Oh my god, Sugita, that’s not-- no, okay, first off, _who do you hang around that makes you first associate fruit with like, fruity, instead of like, actual fruit--_ ”

“--Listen, you were the one that called me a _fruity boy_ , okay, and I _literally_ usually ride with Mai and Ty Lee, a _known lesbian couple_ , you _know this_ about me--”

“--oh _god_ , is that why you got so weird when we got to the top or bottom fruit question--”

“--it threw me off, yes, okay, because that’s not just _something you casually ask someone_ \--”

“--you know what? Okay, we need to stop,” Sokka gets out, clenching his fists against his pants, trying to contain his giggles. But it’s just so damn _funny_. The issue, though, is that Zuko and him have _not_ spent nearly enough time together, so Sokka needs to _calm the_ fuck _down_ so Zuko doesn’t take his laughter the wrong way. “Okay. Sugita. _No_. I wasn’t asking if you were into guys. And if it matters, I really don’t care if you are or not. I’m a little into them myself. But I was just trying to do a fun quiz with you to pass the time. Honest.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Now that his giggles have subsided, Sokka wants to _die_. Zuko’s cheeks are still rouge, and his eyes, focused on the road, seem more purposeful and locked in than ever.  _ They’ll have to break the tension somehow, sometime, right? They can’t be in the same van for the next four months with this awkward air, right? _ Sokka scrambles for something to say but comes up blank. He doesn’t want to make Zuko feel uncomfortable, which means he probably shouldn’t go the teasing route. He can’t think of a different game to play that Zuko would actually agree to, and now he’s wary of choosing more Buzzfeed quizzes to play. There’s nothing interesting happening outside their windows that Sokka can comment on. It’s hopeless and there’s nothing to diffuse the awkwardness and--

“What fruit are you?” Zuko asks.

Sokka recognizes the question as a miracle.

“Great question! Give me a second, hold on….” 

Sokka draws out the quiz for as long as he can, putting pretend effort into considering his options, as if he hadn’t known his own answers five seconds after reading the options out loud to Zuko. 

His quiz result makes him smile. “I, good sir, am a _mango_.”

Zuko hums. “What’s the mango description?”

“I am the _life of the party_ ,” Sokka exaggerates. “It says here that ‘no one has ever been sad or disappointed to see me’.”

Zuko scoffs, lips curling upwards in a small smile.

“What’s so funny?” Sokka asks, putting his phone away.

“I think you should retake that quiz,” he suggests. His light smile warps his words into such a soothing sound. “You should’ve seen June when she found out that Mai and Ty Lee were getting temporarily replaced with the most chaotic and grumpy field agent from the south.”

Sokka splutters, voice warped as he protests the insult. Zuko is biting down what _looks_ to be a smile as Sokka reaches over to smack him lightly on the shoulder, and the rare visual plants itself into Sokka’s head. 

It’s oddly charming. A fun field season no longer feels like a pipe dream; instead, as the sun catches upon Zuko’s neatly pulled back hair, Sokka feels a reckless sense of tedious optimism.

Tedious being a key word.

-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-

It takes only three hours on the road before a beep resonates from the back of the van. Sokka’s attention skirts to his equipment.

“Has Suki called anything in?” Sokka asks distractedly, shifting his seat around to get a better view of the wind readings. He’s fairly certain she hasn’t made contact, but Sokka has had his moments of zoning out over the past hour, so there’s a possibility he missed the alert to be aware of potential new storm formations soon.

“She hasn’t made contact today, except for telling us our assigned destination this morning,” Zuko says, the low timber of his voice falling gently on Sokka’s ears. Sokka hums in acknowledgement, leaning in closer to the various screens lining the back of the van.

“There’s wind shear ten miles south of here,” Sokka says, turning off the alert from the main computer. There’s been a tornado watch in effect for an hour in the area, but so far the storm has seemed mild. He zooms in on their map to analyze the other conditions. “Atmospheric pressure rates seem to indicate a storm of light strength. These conditions can easily spawn something; probably not something big, with the wind speeds we’re getting, but we should check out the centerpoint.”

“Okay,” Zuko says, changing lanes and putting on his turn signal. “I’ll call it into Suki.” 

As Zuko makes the call, Sokka brings his attention back to his models on his computer, scoping out his maps for the perfect place to settle in for the next hour or so. He finds a grocery store parking lot in the middle of the storm formation, and gives Zuko the directions. 

Zuko gets off the phone and merges onto the highway. As Zuko presses harder on the gas pedal, Sokka whips out his own phone and connects it to the van’s aux cord. He skims through his Spotify playlists, eventually landing on one that Toph had made for their field work last year, and presses play without thought. He’s only just nudged up the volume on his phone when Zuko clears his throat and interrupts him.

“Can you turn down this music?” Zuko grumbles, reaching for the volume knob.

“Music will amp us up. You can’t have a storm chase without good storm chase music,” Sokka insists, knocking Zuko’s hand out of the way. Out of spite, Sokka turns the music up louder. The sound drowns out the rest of Zuko’s complaints, but only momentarily.

“Aren’t you supposed to be focusing on our readings?” Zuko asks loudly. “You know, which are coming from our equipment? Which you’re not even looking at?”

“They’re programmed to beep in case stronger winds register,” Sokka reminds him. “We’ll be fine.”

Zuko slams a hand on the radio and the music shuts off. An odd sense of fury rustles deep inside of Sokka, but he holds in every protest, not wanting to catch flak from Zuko over being a ‘distraction’. Sokka turns his seat around entirely so that his sight is forced solely upon the van’s computer monitors. _Nevermind that they haven’t registered any major changes since he last checked the wind patterns. He won’t give Zuko the satisfaction of seeing how mad he’s made him._

Sokka channels all of his energy into focusing on the monotonous readings, noting the exact wind measurements in his work notebook. The jottings aren’t _necessary_ , per se, as the computer keeps all the recorded data, but the notes are occasionally useful for field reflection. Or for giving Sokka a reason to ignore his terrible companion.

Ten minutes later and they’re parked, still not talking to each other. The van isn’t silent; they have beeping equipment to thank for that; but the tension in the air feels heavier than the storm brewing outside.

“Can you hand me my notebook?” Zuko breaks, shifting to briefly face Sokka. As soon as Sokka acknowledges the question with a nod, Zuko goes back to typing something out to the central region’s communication hub.

Sokka locates Zuko’s notebook quickly, tucked next to one of their computer monitors, and picks it up with slippery fingers. It falls open and spills to a random page, one littered with marginal doodles and flowing cursive. 

The temptation to make sense of the combinations of letters is there, and Sokka tries to hold himself back from it, but if he tilts his head it is just _too easy_ to catch a few words here and there--

_ “The Jasmine Dragon-- (816) 555 - 1429” _

_ “Yasuno’s birthday is February 27th-- do not forget it otherwise Ty Lee and Mai will have my throat.” _

_ “Mai says she left a nail file in my work bag by accident?? And that she needs it mailed to her immediately. I don’t know why it’s so important to her but here’s a reminder to mail it anyways.” _

_ “Katara and Aang’s baby is named Bumi. Don’t screw this up, Sokka is his uncle. Bumi. B-U-M-I. Rhymes with loomy. Is loomy a word???? Maybe doomy.  _ _ ROOMY _ _. Rhymes with roomy.” _

_ “Sokka likes blue doritos, bang energy drinks (the blue razz flavor is his favorite), and gas station hot dogs (relish & mustard). If he gets sick, remind June that it is not your fault.” _

_ “New music rec from Ty Lee-- Gwen Stefani???” _

_ “Kuzon Elementary-- visit scheduled (ask Suki for more details later)” _

_ “Accidentally came out, kinda, to Sokka. It was entirely his fault. It went well though, maybe--” _

“--are you reading my journal?” Zuko exclaims, reaching back and grabbing it from Sokka’s greedy hands. Sokka’s attention snaps back. _Oh, right. We’re still in the van. A storm may be brewing_.

“Right, uh, sorry--”

“ _Sorry?_ What the hell, Sokka, leave my stuff alone!”

“You’re the one who asked me to grab it!” Sokka defends. His eyes finally meet Zuko’s face, and he wishes immediately to be _anywhere_ else. “Okay, I’m sorry! I apologize. I didn’t read much.”

Zuko’s expression is still murderous, but at least the ringtone reserved for central’s communication hub rings out, and Zuko’s forced to answer the call.

As Zuko converses with Suki (or Jin), Sokka drags his attention back towards the van’s equipment. The readings have calmed down; now, as Sokka takes in the latest wind speeds and directions, any tornado formation possibility seems unlikely. He sighs; although it’s fairly common to get breaks in the season when the weather doesn’t do anything interesting, he had been hoping for work to break the tension between him and Zuko. Mother nature clearly doesn’t listen to his desires.

Zuko gets off the phone with central and confirms what Sokka’s been speculating. “They’re calling us off from waiting around here. Nothing’s likely to spawn, so we’ll just patrol closer to where our original estimate of a potential storm was, and grab some readings from there.”

“Right,” Sokka sighs, turning his seat back towards the front of the car. He lays his head against the glass window. “Okay.”

Outside, a patter of rain is making a bad attempt to fall from the sky. The clouds are playing coy. 

Sokka has never craved activity more.

-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-

The first serious storm alarm finally comes in after two weeks.

“There’s storm wind formations due west of here,” Sokka says, examining the data rolling into the car’s monitoring system. “Give or take eight miles.”

Zuko shifts into the other lane of the lonely highway. “Roger that, heading west now. Any updates from Suki?”

Sokka swivels to check the communications device in the car. Suki’s sent a few recent messages through to them, and Sokka skims them quickly. “A handful of people have called in reports of a funnel cloud. No ground contact yet, but something’s definitely forming. A tornado warning is in effect for the area. A watch has been in effect there for the past hour and a half.”

Zuko grunts in acknowledgement before speeding up the car. Sokka examines the readings closer. A small smile forms on his face; _finally,_ they get to see some action. 

The roads have emptied almost completely, so they arrive at their temporary workspace in only a few minutes. He doesn’t need to look towards the equipment screens to know where the storm will spawn hellfire; a swirl of clouds wraps beautifully around itself only a distance away.

“There she is,” Sokka says, grinning wider. “Finally.”

The sky bursts open, a portal of circulating air breaking though the clouds, reaching for the ground. Sokka codes the equipment to turn towards the column, feeling a sense of triumph as data starts pouring into their system. Distantly, he hears Zuko make contact with Suki and the control center, but he finds himself too enraptured by the storm to pay his work partner much attention. 

Gusts of winds hit the van and create the vortex of atmosphere that Sokka reveres greatly. Here, protected by layers of metal, he can indulge a sense of peace among the faintest howls of mother nature’s riot. The sky is leaking a violent color, a pretty palate complimenting the occasional burst of tan dirt and wood sent flying. The nearby fields of corn stalks look as if they’re glistening green waves, shuttering gently to every whimsical tug of the wind.

Sokka closes his eyes. Inside the darkness of his mind and body, the storm isn’t demanding attention. Somewhere, millions of miles above them all, the sun’s surface is bubbling brightly as usual, indifferent to the clouds wrecking their own havoc on this speck of Earth. 

He basks in this powerful, gentle disregard.

“You okay?” Zuko’s voice, unnaturally gentle, asks.

Sokka opens his eyes slowly. Zuko’s face is soft in the heather light, eyebrows crinkled slightly in concern.

“Yeah,” Sokka rasps. “Why?”

“It’s just, you’ve got a little tear in the corner of your eye,” Zuko says, gesturing towards Sokka’s left ear.

Sokka huffs happily, and brushes both corners of his eyes, just to be safe. “Sorry. It’s just from the wind.”

“We’re in a government-grade secure van.”

“Yeah. Just the wind.”

-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-

Data collection lasts for three hours, although the worst of the storm finishes in mere minutes. They follow the storm until it’s declassified as a supercell, and then they find themselves in Bumfuck, Missouri. Zuko calls into central, and Suki routes them towards the nearest hotel so that they can rest for the night. 

It’s a thirty minute drive. Small talk doesn’t seem as daunting as usual, now that they’ve got a storm together under their belt.

“The sky needs to keep this up,” Sokka drawls, smiling out the window as Zuko carefully drives (which, in itself, is pointless, as there are still no other cars on the road). “Beautiful formations, never hitting us too close, and far away from humanity. I can’t think of anything more perfect.”

“A world without any storms at all, maybe,” Zuko mutters. Sokka catches the slightest lilt to his voice, though, and smiles at it.

“Touché, Sugita. Although, I’m obligated to point out that we would be unemployed in that universe.”

“Good. I’d rather be a hermit.”

Not even Zuko’s curt answers can dull Sokka’s glistening excitement from the day’s activities. The rest of the drive Sokka rambles about the data they collected, and Zuko occasionally hums in reply. As soon as they park at the hotel, Sokka uses his energy to rip off his seatbelt and jostle his way outside immediately.

Zuko’s much slower than him, but that’s all right. Sokka breathes in, admiring the fresh and moist air around him. It’s almost as if he can feel the most tender of caresses from the miniscule water molecules in the air, brushing against his temporarily closed eyelids. It’s a simple comfort. He indulges in it.

As they enter the building, some classical music playing from the hotel bar catches Sokka’s attention. The thought of settling down into a bar stool with a cold beer, instead of bickering about who gets first shower with Zuko back in their hotel room, is indecently tempting. Truly, the apple of Eden. Zuko’s hit the elevator button for their room and Sokka makes up his mind.

“Hey, Sugita, it’s been a long day, I’m going to go unwind with a drink at the bar.”

“Oh.” Zuko blinks, his face wiped clean of previous exhaustion. “Oh, okay. Can we run up to the room to drop my stuff off first?”

Sokka’s mind clears. _He hadn’t-- part of the allure of the bar was that Zuko wouldn’t be there with-- He just wants a beer--_ “Uh, yeah. Okay.”

It takes a minute to make it back downstairs. The entire time, Sokka is silent. It’s like he’s been hit with whiplash; _finally_ , there’s an opportunity to get some alone time and completely relax, but _somehow_ Zuko has wormed his way into his plans carelessly, yet seamlessly. It would be impressive, if Sokka wasn’t in shock.

They reach the bar again, and over the soft classical music is the din of a busy space. The tables are crowded, and the majority of patrons seem to be watching a baseball game on one of the many television screens scattered across the room. That leaves Sokka with only one desirable option.

“Want to sit at the bar?” Sokka offers. 

“Yeah,” Zuko agrees easily, stumbling closer to Sokka as two people move past him. Sokka instinctively grabs onto Zuko’s arm, pulling him closer and leading him forwards. They grab two open seats next to each other, and Sokka’s quietly relieved that at least he won’t have to be looking Zuko straight in the face.

The bartender is quick to get their drafts of beer before them, and when Sokka finally feels the beer foam hit his mouth and the bitter liquid spill down his throat, he feels much more relaxed. He doesn’t drink often, but it’s a nice occasional vice for him. 

Zuko sips his beer slowly beside him. Sokka doesn’t feel obligated to engage him in conversation as they drink, so instead, he focuses on the baseball game.

After some time has passed by, and they’ve been served another round, Sokka notices Zuko tapping his fingers incessantly on the wood bar. Sokka abandons the baseball game to look at him.

“You good?” Sokka asks, in between sips of his beer.

“Hm?” Zuko hums, eyes focused somewhere behind Sokka.

Sokka usually wouldn’t look, out of courtesy for the person looking, but he reserves no such niceties for Zuko. He spins around in his seat, and finds himself facing a small group of men, boisterously enjoying their night.

“Who are you looking at, exactly?” Sokka asks.

Zuko slaps him on the shoulder, lightly. “Stop that. Stop looking at them.”

“Not until you tell me who you’re looking at,” Sokka whispers conspiratorially, keeping his eyes trained on the group.

“You’re acting like a child,” Zuko mutters. Nothing happens for a few seconds, and then Zuko leans closer into Sokka’s space, so that he can talk lowly by his ear. “Okay, fine. The cowboy.”

“The cowboy?” Sokka asks absent-mindedly, before spotting the man that Zuko must be talking about. He’s a tall guy with a great tan, which is absolutely ruined by the cowboy hat atop his sandy hair. 

“See something you like?” Sokka slowly questions, teasingly. Zuko pulls away from him, and Sokka looks over at him, quirking an eyebrow up. 

Zuko’s fingers twitch and a blush takes over his right cheek. “Shut up.”

“So,” Sokka says, voice light, “didn’t know you’re into cowboys. Giddy up, huh?”

Zuko groans and covers his face in his hands. “Stop, I’m not.”

“Sure,” Sokka’s mouth twists, “you’re just making sweet eyes at that fella over there, probably taking fashion notes down. Totally not ogling him. So, I gotta be honest with you, Zuko, I _don't_ think you have what it takes to pull off a cowboy hat.”

Zuko kicks him in the shin. Sokka accidentally slams his head on the bar wood when he instinctively hunches into himself.

“I’m just trying to read his shirt,” Zuko grumbles, reaching out for his drink. “It’s mostly covered up by his flannel, so it’s been taking me awhile.”

Sokka glances over at the man, who, beneath his cowboy hat, is also wearing a bolo tie, a dark brown flannel, bootcut jeans, and, _of course_ , tacky brown cowboy boots. If he squints, Sokka can make out part of a graphic t-shirt that the man’s got on under his flannel. He can’t read what it says, either, much to Zuko’s benefit.

“Fine,” Sokka huffs. “Bet you ten dollars it says something stupid.”

“I don’t have a spare ten dollars to lose so easily,” Zuko sighs. 

“Is that your type, then? If not cowboys, then guys who wear lame graphic t-shirts?” Sokka asks, finishing off his beer, signaling to the bartender for another.

“Sure. A guy appears in front of me with a graphic tee and khaki shorts, and my heart just skips all its beats. Instant boner,” Zuko grumbles sarcastically, before turning aggressive. “What’s it to you, anyways?”

“Hey, now!” Sokka protests, flinging up his arms innocently. “I’m not kinkshaming, I’m just trying to get to know my lovely new work partner a bit better.”

Sokka feels Zuko’s scrutinizing eyes on him for a few seconds, and sighs in relief when they finally drag back to face the bar. 

Zuko never replies to Sokka’s implied question of what he’s _actually_ into. Sokka isn’t enough of an idiot to push the question, so instead he flips the topic over.

“What do you think are my chances with this crowd?” Sokka asks airily. His scans of the other patrons have so far been fruitless, not that he’s really been looking.

Zuko turns his head, and a strand of hair falls out of his bun and partially shields his face from Sokka. “You’re tall and loud and confident for no reason. Maybe someone desperate will waste their time with you.”

Sokka mimics glee, dramatically placing a hand over his heart. “Aw, Sugita, I never thought you’d feel that way about me. Next thing I know, you’ll be calling me pretty.”

“Yeah,” he mutters under his breath. “Pretty fucking annoying.”

_ Don’t laugh don’t laugh don’t _laugh _that was at_ your _expense--_

Sokka laughs. 

“All right, I’m going to the bathroom,” Sokka says, going with the first excuse that comes to mind that would let him recollect himself somewhere, well, not around _Zuko_. It’s been a solid three minutes of conversation with the man. Now he needs a break. “Don’t get too lonely without me.”

“I’ll do my best,” Zuko replies, just when Sokka’s almost out of earshot.

It takes an embarrassingly long time to locate the restroom. After he’s done, he washes his hands and catches a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror. The pleasure of a day well spent is embodied in his parted lips and bright eyes. He clears his throat, shoots his reflection a wink, and reaches for the door to leave.

He’s made it halfway back to the bar when he sees that Zuko’s somehow found himself company. The cowboy they were joking about has made his way over to lean against Sokka’s empty seat, and he now looms over Zuko, who’s sat down compactly. An uneasy feeling spreads itself through Sokka’s gut. He rushes over.

“--was the saying? _‘Left is right, right is wrong,_ ’ or am I mistaken? You look like you’d know something about that, pretty boy.” The cowboy’s voice is annoying. He’s leaning far too close into Zuko’s personal space. His hands are far too bony, and far too close to Zuko’s body. One reaches towards Zuko’s left ear, where a silver stud rests among burned skin. Zuko flinches. Sokka shoves his way through a few more patrons.

“Uh, I’m sorry, sir, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The gay ear. Your piercing… are you a little f--”

Sokka is finally close enough to get a hand onto Zuko’s shoulder. “Sugita! I missed you, buddy.” He shuffles closer to Zuko’s left side and takes his time letting his eyes wander over to the cowboy, who’s cleared his throat. “Oh,” Sokka fake-starts, before letting out a giggle, “I’m sorry, have we met before?”

The cowboy’s eyes narrow, but a reluctant fake smile dresses his face. 

“‘Fraid we haven’t had that pleasure,” he rasps. “Don’t mind me, I just wanted to check in with your friend, here--”

“All righty, so you’re done here? Great!” Sokka boasts, tightening his grip onto Zuko.

Zuko’s face scrunches up, and he pushes Sokka’s hand off of him. “Sokka, it’s fine. We were just having a conversation. Cory was just leaving, weren’t you, Cory?”

His voice is tinged with steel resolve. Sokka looks at him with wide eyes. Something massive churns in the pit of his stomach. He can’t pinpoint the emotion of the sensation. He glances away from Zuko in whip-lashing confusion.

“Right,” Cory’s voice tumbles. He begins to walk away, but before going, he leans into Sokka and mutters into his ear, “I’d watch out about your friend, if I were you. You never know when boys _like that_ get a little too comfortable with ya.”

Sokka wants to lunge at him, but somehow one of Zuko’s hands gets a solid grip around his arm, and Sokka is stuck in place with a scowl on his face as _Cowboy Cory_ saunters away.

“It’s not worth it, you know,” Zuko breaks, releasing Sokka. “His graphic t-shirt said ‘ _F.B.I.: Female Body Inspector_ ’. Quite the letdown.”

Any aggression left festering in his mind abates instantly. “That,” Sokka laughs out, “is the stupidest t-shirt I could ever imagine.”

Zuko has a small smile on his face. “The font was in American flag colors.”

Sokka laughs harder.

“I think, at that point, the only thing that could make it worse would be if it had a scantily-clad pinup girl graphic below the text,” Zuko continues.

_ Damn. Maybe Zuko’s funny.  _

The rest of the time at the bar is spent enjoying the broken tension. They take turns poking gentle fun at the other patrons, creating false backstories for some of the more interesting figures. 

After two hours and three drinks have gone by, they stumble their way back to their hotel room. Sokka’s worse off than Zuko, so he’s grateful for Zuko’s solid body helping to hold him up as they meander through the hotel hallways. When they arrive, Sokka immediately throws himself belly-first onto the bed closest to the window and resolves to not move until morning. 

“Hey, Sugita,” he mumbles, halfway to sleep. “You have an ear piercing. Do you know? If your piercing is in the gay ear?”

He hears Zuko huff, hopefully out of laughter rather than annoyance. “Sokka, come on. I’m gay. Both of my ears are the gay ears.”

Sokka greets unconsciousness with a small smile still stuck on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zuko: finding out what fruit i am is actually something that can be so personal--  
> If u want to take the real quiz, here it is! What fruit am i quiz: https://www.buzzfeed.com/natalyalobanova/what-fruit-are-you 
> 
> \-----  
> sorry about the delay in posting this! i've been playing around with the timing of events in future chapters and so that caused this one to be a bit delayed. my apologies! up next: zuko and sokka teach children >.<


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